


Shatter

by FlareWarrior



Series: Kinktober 2017 [9]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Captivity, Dark, Harry's his uncle, Incest, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Mild Gore, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 14:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlareWarrior/pseuds/FlareWarrior
Summary: It's Eggsy who breaks first, four months into their captivity.





	Shatter

It's Eggsy who breaks first, four months into their captivity.

When they throw him back in the cell with Harry, when he tells him between hitching breaths what he's done, Harry draws him close and shushes him gently.

"Everyone talks, Eggsy." He sounds so relieved as he says it that Eggsy believes him.

Another six months pass and they've been wrung for everything. No one's coming, if anyone's left to come. Harry assures him they lasted long enough for Kingsman to compensate, but there's a note of desperate hope in his voice that tells Eggsy he's not so sure about that. All things told, Eggsy couldn't bring Kingsman low with what he knew. Harry could.

The two of them are the last ones left of the captives. The Shanghaier had gone first, then the CIA agents, followed by the KGB man only recently. The persistent ache that permeates Eggsy's body from hunger and exhaustion is worse now than the sharp pain from fractures and bruises and lacerations. He shakes constantly, and Harry's taken to folding them together in the corner in a feeble bid for warmth.

"I ain't gonna make it much longer, Haz." His voice is so weak as he speaks that both of them have to know it's true.

Harry's still so strong, an unbreakable redwood, but that's not a _good thing._ Eggsy's almost out, soon he'll die under bright lights or, the best he can hope for, in Harry's arms. Harry's so goddamn strong, he's got months of loneliness left in him. Hell, if losing Eggsy makes their captors careful, he could have years.

Harry doesn't acknowledge any of this. A testament to his will, even in the face of that future, he thinks of Eggsy first. He tucks Eggsy's head on his bony shoulder and hushes him, arms that must be weak but feel powerful banding around him.

"Sleep, darling."

Eggsy feels something - something he didn't even know was still left - crumble inside him.

He whines in his throat, tries to draw closer and can't, finds himself pawing at Harry's bare chest with jagged nails.

"Harry, Harry _please_. I need-"

Eggsy doesn't know what he needs, but Harry crumbles too, and Harry knows. He turns Eggsy's face up with dry, cracked hands and seals their torn and scarred lips together. A thrill shoots down Eggsy's spine, makes him feel more alive than he has since they were captured. He chases the feeling, the warmth in his bones and the haze over his mind, and damningly, the weak and stuttering flame that ignites even in the frozen wreckage of his heart.

Harry doesn't taste like anything, they haven't had food in days and blood and dirt are already constant presences in his own mouth. It's dry and harsh with stubble, and Eggsy rocks into it, desperate, fisting his hands in Harry's over-long locks with all the strength he has left. Harry's fingers drift downward and Eggsy breaks off to cry out, at once desperate for more and for less when Harry's palm slides against his cock. He's not hard, not exactly, can't force the energy from his splintered body, but Harry doesn’t let up, coaxes it from air and nothing until Eggsy's leaking hydration he can't afford under his skillful touch.

"I can't, darling, I can't," Harry chants against his lips when Eggsy fumbles with the drawstring on his trousers, and he'd be worried Harry was just humoring him in his final hour if Harry weren't kissing him like a starving man given a feast.

This is it, he knows, they’ve been ruined, but he wouldn’t stop for the world. Harry shares twenty-five percent of Eggsy' DNA, DNA that slicks the way for his hand on Eggsy's cock when he spits into his palm. Eggsy gasps against Harry's lips, whines and writhes as much as his weary body will allow. It's the least sexy thing he's ever done, but it warms him from the inside out, chases the ache from his limbs and the tang of constant fear from his tongue.

Harry drags Eggsy into his lap, tucks him close, and gets a hand in Eggsy's hair to wrench his head back. It doesn't take much force, Harry had been taking most of his weight for weeks now anyway. Harry bites a trail down his neck, devouring, still fisting Eggsy's cock in his hand with a vicious possession that has Eggsy blinking stars out of his vision.

"Harry," Eggsy pleads, because he feels the cold seeping back in, but he needs this, can't take another agonizing frustration in his life if it ends in nothing. Harry seems to understand. He noses back up Eggsy's throat, nuzzles under his ear, breathes for a long moment.

Then he bites, softly, beneath it, sending another round of shock waves along Eggsy's dulled nerves, and whispers, "Come for me, darling."

With a soft cry he does, comes mostly dry in Harry's rough palm and wilts almost immediately after, melting down into Harry's lap into a boneless, gasping heap. He can't keep his eyes open, feels exhaustion creep up on him undeniably this time. He passes out to Harry mumbling sweet things, whispering " _darling, darling, darling_ ," like a mantra, or a prayer.

 

The guards take Harry next time. Neither of them have anything left in them to fight anymore, but Eggsy isn't sure which side the slamming of the metal cell door sounds worse on. Eggsy's too weak now to stay awake for long, and in the intervening snatches he manages it, Harry seems almost manic with worry. Eggsy falls asleep alone, staring at the door.

  


"Eggsy, wake up," there's something _wrong_ in Harry's voice, and that's what drags Eggsy from his slumber.

Harry's been back for a while, he can tell that, if only for the fact that the guards are at the door again.

"I need you to stand, darling. Can you do that for me?"

Eggsy wants to ask why, when they'll drag him out anyway. He wants to sleep. He wants to stay with Harry, not die in a chair to the tune of crackling electricity or splashing water.

"Please, Eggsy. Please."

It's not with his own strength that he lifts his body, so it must be some that Harry's found a way to give him. Eggsy's barely sitting when the door opens, but he sees the flash in Harry's eyes and might have leapt up, given a moment more. Harry has something, and he rips both men's throats out with it in the time it takes Eggsy to get his feet under him.

Eggsy doesn't see what Harry's done, doesn't see the hole in Harry's side, doesn't see that Harry's fighting with his own rib until they're cowering in a drainpipe two cities away.

 

Harry stands tall and resolute draped in a black pea coat, his hair clean and styled, his stubble shaved off. They've made it to China, snuck through as easily as their spy skills allowed. Eggsy's gaining his strength back, but Harry's taking longer, filling out slowly and healing sluggishly. It scares him when he lets it. Harry says it's to be expected, at his age. Eggsy thinks of gouged redwoods slowly regrowing.

"They won't welcome us back," Eggsy says, and it's half a question, but the look on Harry's face confirms it. They stow away on a drug ships to Australia, and from there Harry gets them to New Caledonia. They're not running anymore. No one came for them in Russia, no one will come for them now as long as they stay low.

 

They've smooth-talked their way into a living on the islands. The villa they call home is lovely white, the bedroom little more than a curtained veranda. White gossamer blows in the gentle wind around them, shiffs against the hardwood far quieter than Eggsy's ragged breathing.

Harry's two fingers deep in him, drawing them out and pushing back in in time with the ocean waves. They haven't gone this far before, but Eggsy hardly realizes it with Harry setting a slow and torturous rhythm over his prostate. Eggsy's teeth sink into the pillow on every drag, his fingers clenching in the sheets.

Harry's other hand is inescapable on his hip, an iron grip keeping him still, so he can't do anything more than twitch against the sheets to relieve the throbbing in his cock. After what feels like an age, a third finger presses against him, blunt and relentless. He whines high in his throat as Harry works it in along the others, massaging at his rim until it slips in without resistance.

Three is almost too much. He gasps as they pull at his already over-worked flesh, burns with the friction. Harry pauses, adds more lube, and keeps going. It's better, though he can still feel himself fluttering around Harry's thick digits at the stretch, it's good enough that he wants more. Harry's been so leisurely about fingering him open he'd have almost thought it was the main event, spent ages gripping bruises into Eggsy's hip and milking him so that the sheets are drenched with sweat and pre-come.

But he does, at last, withdraw, when Eggsy starts to squirm again against the mattress. Then Harry's hands smooth up over the planes of his back and Eggsy takes a deep, shuddering breath - steeling himself, because they're going to do this. Harry's leaned over him, a looming presence, about to be inside him.

Harry nuzzles the back of his neck and Eggsy closes his eyes, waiting. But nothing happens as soft lips explore his throat, save longer fingers tangling with his own over his head. The tension once again seeps from his body. Harry's pressed close, wonderfully close and shielding, and all it occurs to Eggsy to do is want.

"Please," the word slips out before he realizes it, a quiet plea taken away by the tropical breeze. Harry catches it, though, he must, because his sedate attitude changes just a bit, just enough for his teeth to sink in to the meat of Eggsy's shoulder. Eggsy keens and tucks his face into the pillow, too wired, too raw, and too sensitive for that much sensation.

Then Harry draws away, and Eggsy's ready, this time, edges his legs further apart in encouragement. But Harry doesn't take the bait. Eggsy finds a strong hand on his shoulder, damp with lube and sweat, and it pulls until he's forced to turn over.

Eggsy freezes on his elbows while Harry shifts to place himself back between Eggsy's legs. Eggsy freezes because Harry's gorgeous, and he's not so calm as he seemed, his eyes nearly black with pupil, his lips a bitten, cherry red. His hair's gone a combination of grey and sandy with the sun. Eggsy freezes because it's Harry pressing against him, over him, his father's bother who's pulling him in for a kiss.

He's torn when their lips meet, whether or not to close his eyes. He does, against his own volition, as bliss flows through him. Harry tastes of salty martinis and coconut water, smells like sand and sunscreen and him. Harry's hands slide down, hitch Eggsy's legs up over his hips as he takes his time tasting him.

When Harry pulls away it takes Eggsy a while to open his eyes again. Harry's are dark, intense, questioning, pleading.

"I want to see."

It's broad daylight, the room is flooded with light and there's nothing stopping Harry from seeing anything he wants, nothing left to let them hide from what they're doing. There's never been any turning back, but if he says no, they can keep the illusion.

Eggsy nods.

When Harry pushes in he shatters, arches on the bed with a scream, barely feels himself opening over the rush of tingling shivers that wrack his body when Harry's inside him at last. He trembles through it while Harry doesn't move, holds him steady and kisses everything he can reach.

The feeling doesn't lessen, but he gets used to it enough to look up at Harry, to realize his vision is blurry and he needs, needs more, needs everything. He's broken, they both are, and he needs it like air.

"Harry," he says, his voice a prayer, shaken and weak.

Harry's watching like he knows, and he must. He captures Eggsy's lips again briefly, hungrily, gently. When he pulls away he whispers, “There are far worse ways to break, my darling.”


End file.
